


Midnight Conversations

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Developing Relationship, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Music, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slash, Stargazing, Stars, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: In his own way, Izaya takes Shizuo on a date.





	Midnight Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'm over-posting, but they're so much fun to write and I can't stop.

It takes Shizuo a minute to realise something is different about the flea: he hasn’t seen Izaya in anything smarter than his usual outfit since school. He wonders if Izaya has a date.

“Why are you all dressed up?”

“Because,” Izaya says, as smug as ever.  “I’m going somewhere nice.”

And with that, he takes off and runs.

Out of habit, Shizuo hurtles after him. Considering Izaya’s shoes, and the fact that he wouldn’t want to ruin his clothes, it shouldn’t be as difficult as it actually is.

Izaya weaves through the crowds and darts into an alleyway. He is prying open a worn looking side exit when Shizuo catches up, and darts inside just before the other man can grab him.

Shizuo enters a corridor that’s seen better days, following Izaya’s path towards the sound of voices. He stops and blinks once he’s out in the light. He hadn’t really paid attention to where they were, but he sees now that everyone is very, very dressed up. They’re in the hall of some sort of show, maybe an opera.

“Behave,” Izaya murmurs from where he’s appeared at Shizuo’s side. “This is a nice place.”

“Then why bring me here?” Shizuo hisses back, painfully self-conscious in his barman suit, although no-one pays him any mind. He looks just like one of the staff.

“Relax,” Izaya says. “I have a ticket, and you’re blending in.”

“But why- “

“This way.”

Izaya takes off without letting him finish, and Shizuo has no choice but to follow; he does look over his shoulder at the corridor leading to the side exit, but the crowds have increased, and he doesn’t really want to draw attention to himself by shouldering through them. And anyway, he hadn't come here for nothing.

“I want to kill you,” he growls in Izaya’s ear, once he’s caught up, when they’ve passed the slightly confused looking ushers.

“We’ll go up on the roof,” Izaya says complacently, heading for the staircase. “You can kill me up there.”

This, Shizuo tells himself, is the only reason he follows Izaya up, all the way to the top, past more ushers and into the balcony section. There are less people here, with quite a few empty seats scattered around them. Shizuo almost forgets why he is here, as he takes in the beauty of the ceiling, the chandelier, the red and gold balcony.

“It’s a concert, not a show,” Izaya tells him, as he makes himself comfortable. “It’s not like you need a terrific view.”

Shizuo blinks a bit. He doesn’t sit down.

“This isn’t the roof, flea.”

“Afterwards,” Izaya says complacently. “Sit down.”

“I don’t want to see a concert.”

“Well, it’d look pretty rude if you left now. It’s about to start.”

Sure enough, the lights start to fade.

“Izaya…” he growls, but even as he says it, he doesn’t want to climb over everyone to get out. He sits down.

“You’ll like it,” Izaya says in a low voice, as a hush begins to descend over the seats. “It’s relaxing.”

Shizuo rolls his eyes and focusses on the stage. The spotlight shines on a lone piano, and an old man steps out. He bows solemnly to the ensuing applause, before taking his seat at the piano. Izaya edges forward on his seat.

It isn’t too exciting at first. Peaceful. Simple. Then the backing violins rise, and he feels something inside him lift with it. Most of the classical music he’s heard before is soulless, meaningless, something that could play in an elevator, but something about this makes him breathe sharply.

Besides him, Izaya puts his arms on the balcony and leans right forward. Halfway into the show, he rests his head on his arms, although he is still as alert as ever. Shizuo is glad the informant can’t see his face. His heart is thrumming with life, like he’s seen a sunset or a rare animal. He is almost breathless by the end, and it is like coming out of a dream. It takes him a beat to start clapping with everyone else.

Izaya sits back with a sigh.

“I love him,” he says.

Shizuo says nothing.

“Did you like it?” Izaya persists.

“Yes.”

They don’t go up to the roof.

Izaya makes a donation on their way out, and Shizuo also feels for his wallet. He wonders how much tickets had been. Izaya said no-one had heard of the artist, and there had been a lot of empty seats, but it had been so mesmerising, Shizuo can’t understand how it’s not sold out all over the world.

The night air is cool on his skin. He can’t bear to spoil it with a chase or a fight. 

“Why’d you take me there?”

“I didn’t take you anywhere,” Izaya retorts. “You followed me. I didn’t have time to throw you off and double back on myself, or I’d be late.” He smirks at Shizuo sidelong, looking pleased with himself. “But, seeing as you enjoyed yourself, perhaps you should let me off for coming to Ikebukuro just this once, no?”

He darts off before Shizuo can answer. Shizuo lets him go. He’s still unsure if he’s actually really awake.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he sees Izaya, the informant turns and bolts like nothing is different, and Shizuo follows out of instinct. Instead of going for the side streets or rooftops however, like he normally does, Izaya seems to be taking him somewhere more and more isolated, until they are almost outside of the city all together. He runs and runs until they make it to a park, lit silver in the moonlight. Not even out of breath, Izaya zips off up a seemingly unending hill, and Shizuo staggers to a halt as his eyes take in the height of it.

 _Oh, no, no fucking way_ , he thinks, his thighs already burning, but Izaya is practically skipping up like it’s nothing, and the sight is so infuriating that Shizuo can’t _not_ chase him. Izaya starts jogging backwards at one point to taunt him, and Shizuo hopes he will fall and crack his skull open.

“Come on, Shizu-chan,” he sings. “Almost there!”

Shizuo ignores him. He looks at his feet instead of how far he has to go. He’s made it this far now, he might as well go all the way. He knows Izaya will bolt in whatever direction once he’s at the top, and Shizuo will have no way of finding him, but he can at least have a smoke and enjoy the view.

Once he finally stumbles on flat ground, however, Izaya is waiting for him.  A domed building looms behind him, and people are going inside, despite the lateness of the hour.

“Another concert?” he says, when he’s got his breath, and Izaya just smiles.

“Something like that.”

Shizuo turns to look down on the city, and a feeling of calm washes over him. It more than makes up for the jelliness in his legs and the copper taste in his throat. His heart is thudding pleasantly. He gives a little sigh of satisfaction.

“Look up,” Izaya tells him, and Shizuo follows his gaze to the moon and balks a little. The size of it over the silhouettes of the city make it look almost cartoon-ish, “It’s a supermoon,” Izaya explains.

“Supermoon,” he repeats. It sounds funny.

“Yup,” Izaya says. “Let’s go.” He starts walking backwards to the building, waiting for Shizuo to follow.

Shizuo hesitates. He’d rather just sit here.

“You can see the stars from inside,” Izaya tells him.

“How much is it?”

“It’s free. It’s a special event.”

“Without reservations?”

“I have reservations,” Izaya says, a little impatiently. “Hurry up, Shizu-chan.”

An observatory. He should have known. A midnight talk. And Shizuo has to admit, it’s pretty cool.

They’re taken into the main room with everyone else, and the host invites them to find a space and lie down. Once they are all settled, the lights dim and the ceiling parts.

It is breath-taking. It takes Shizuo a moment to focus on what the host is actually telling them. He tells them, in a low, soothing yet passionate voice, how to discern the constellations from one another. Draco, Sirius, Gemini. How often Jupiter is visible. What the supermoon was and how often it comes. When to expect the next eclipse.

Shizuo doesn’t take in every detail - he’s sure Izaya is rapt - but drifts in and out as he pleases. The man’s voice is soothing, the floor surprisingly comfortable, and the experience so special, he almost forgets it is Izaya lying next to him.

When the lights slowly come back on however, the roof drawing to a close, Izaya is gone.

People start to make small talk, as the host gets together some drinks. Shizuo is very out of his depth. He hopes the informant is just in the bathroom. When it becomes clear however that Izaya is not coming back, he asks rather desperately to be shown to the toilets himself, but then keeps going, down the corridor and out into the night.

Damn flea. What had he done that for? Had it been to deliberately make Shizuo uncomfortable, or had he simply got bored and left? Shizuo tries not to let it get to him. He would never understand Izaya or any of the things he did. It had still been a good experience.

As he starts to make his way down the hill however, he sees Izaya himself, stretched out on the grass with his head propped on one elbow. Shizuo takes a sudden step backwards, as an extra pair of seemingly glowing eyes also blink at him. It takes him a moment to realise it is a cat. Both it and Izaya regard him calmly, like twins.

“Hello,” Izaya says idly.

The casualness of his tone brings Shizuo’s temper back.

“When did you leave?”

“About ten minutes ago. I don’t like the chatting part. Sometimes I do, but not tonight.”

“You come a lot?” Shizuo asks, intrigued in spite of himself.

“About once a month. Sit down.”

Shizuo scowls, but does so anyway.

“You could have told me you were leaving,” he says, not wanting to drop the point.

Izaya shrugs.

“You’d have been all right. People like you when you’re chilled out.”

“Whatever. I hate you so much.”

He watches Izaya play with the cat.

“Why aren’t you always like this?”

“Why aren’t you?” Izaya shoots back. “Why aren’t you always chilled out like you are right now?”

“I’m not,” he mutters. He is, though. He can’t hold on to his irritation. He looks at the cat, who is purring and pressing its head against Izaya’s side. Izaya sees him looking.

“Hold out your hand.”

Shizuo doesn’t hold out his hand - he’s worried the cat will snub him and Izaya will laugh - but the cat trots over anyway. Shizuo extends his fingers, and the cat rubs its head against his hand. It chases a pinecone that he and Izaya toss between them, until something in the bushes startles the cat and it bolts. Izaya sighs and tosses the pinecone away.

They lie side by side for a while, Shizuo’s mind tumbling with questions. It is far too beautiful to fight up here. It is also pretty fucking weird, but mostly just pretty.

“So what next?” he says eventually. “Seeing as you’re bored of normal fights.”

“Why should I have to think of everything,” Izaya says playfully. “Maybe it’s your turn.”

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t see you at all.”

He almost cringes as he hears himself. He answers out of reflex, almost on autopilot, from years of fighting, and it turns the air cold between them.

Izaya just shrugs.

“OK. I won’t bother thinking of anything else then.”

Shizuo swallows. If Izaya were a girl, this would be so much easier. The whole night would be magical, it would be perfect. If Izaya had been anyone except, well, himself, it would be so much easier.

Behind them, people are starting to come out of the observatory, their chatter carrying out over the hill, and head for the parking lot.

“How do you find out about this stuff anyway?” Shizuo asks him.

“It’s Tokyo. There’s always something going on,” he says vaguely. “It’s not like it’s hard to look up.”

“But how do you find out about the special stuff?”

“I don’t know. I just read stuff. I like keeping on top of what’s going on.”

“And why’d you bring me?”

“I told you, I don’t bring you anywhere. It’s not like I ask you to chase me.”

“You don’t exactly throw me off, either.”

“You think I’m that desperate for your company?”

“Well, it’s not like anyone else wants to hang out with you.”

Again, he flinches inwardly at his own words. Had they always talked to each other like this? They didn’t normally make it beyond fights to talking. Maybe that was part of the problem. He’s so used to being on the defensive. The only people he has non-confrontational conversations with Tom, Celty and his brother, and he’s known them forever.

Izaya sits up. His hand accidentally covers Shizuo’s as he pushes himself up, and he takes it away again.

“Sorry,” he says.

Shizuo feels the informant looking down at him, barely any distance between them, and his insides tighten with anticipation. A second passes, and another, and another, and Izaya shifts again.

“Well, see you.”

Shizuo opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and Izaya descends the hill without him, disappearing with the speed of the cat.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t see the informant for a good while after that. Shizuo waits for him without realising he’s waiting, has a dull sense of disappointment when he does realise it. It becomes clear that he has two options; to let the whole thing go, and be grateful Izaya is staying out of his hair, or to do the unthinkable and to approach Izaya himself.

He has no idea how to do this. It’s not like he can just offer to take him for a coffee. It’s not even clear if Izaya had intended the other two nights as dates, if he had been flirting. Perhaps the flea had just been bored, or lonely, or even planning some stunt that involved building up Shizuo’s trust. But Shizuo doesn’t think so. He can’t shake the urge. Years of despising the man, and it had only taken two nights to make him wonder. So much so that when he does finally stumble upon Izaya, his heart lurches in a way that tells him whatever Izaya is up to, he's fallen for it, hard. 

Izaya is on the phone, strolling about as he talks. Shizuo tries to pick up on the conversation, until he realises it is in Russian.

He knows a good dessert place that’s open 24 hours, normally filled with after-office cocktailers who clear out before midnight. He’d found it by accident after a chase with Izaya, and had the best mochi cake of his life. It could be interesting to get Izaya drunk. He waits for the other man to hang up.

Izaya sighs when he does, like he is incredibly sad, or incredibly tired, and it is a rare sight seeing Izaya without a smirk on his face. He seems to sense Shizuo’s presence then and flips his head up.

“What do you want?”

His aggression knocks Shizuo a little. Shizuo wonders if he had actually offended the informant last time, or if Izaya just didn't take well to being crept up on. Shizuo shrugs, trying not to overthink it.

“Want to get some cake, Izaya-kun?”

Izaya stares at him.

“Do you think I’m someone else? I don’t like cake.”

“You’ll like this cake. They have alcohol too.”

 “Where?”

“On the supermoon. Look, do you want to go or not?”

“I need to know _where_.”

“A dessert place.”

He frowns.

“I don’t like dessert.”

“Well, I don’t normally like you, or classical music or observatories. Come on. It’s a nice place.” 

It’s as beautiful and quirky as he remembered, select, small, circular, with sofas and candles on the table, strange art on the walls and a goldfish in a bowl on the bar. A few couples and groups of friends dot the tables, their heads together over drinks and dessert. The staff are all smiling despite the lateness of the hour. They are led to a table by the window and left with the menus.

“It’s too late for cake,” Izaya says.

“It’s never too late for cake.”

Shizuo goes for the mochi cake, while Izaya has lemon ice cream with bittersweet chocolate sprinkles.

“All right, this is good,” Izaya tells him. “This place was a good call. Who’ve you been here with?”

“No-one.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“I found it one night after we had a fight.”

“Really?”

He looks pleased. He lets Shizuo try some of his ice-cream, and has a bite of the cake.

They move to the sofa afterwards for drinks. Sweet cocktail for Shizuo, dry martini for Izaya. They then proceed to get quite drunk.

“Are we on a date?” he asks Izaya.

“Why are you asking me?” he says. “You asked me here. You should decide the purpose.”

“Well, what were the concert and the observatory?”

“I don’t know.” He is flicking through a book on the coffee table, but he seems too tipsy to be being deliberately evasive. “Look, they have themed nights with movies. Korean night, Shanghai night…”

By the time they’re outside, Shizuo’s not sure how it happens, they’re back up against one of the buildings they usually fight by and they’re kissing.

He pins Izaya’s arms above his head for the hell of it, and it is surprisingly easy.

“Man, you really can’t handle a drink, can you,” he says, as Izaya squirms.

“Martinis are stronger than your twee little cocktails.”

“Sure,” he says, letting him go.

 “So it is a date,” Izaya says, when Shizuo tries to kiss him again.

“What?”

“You asked me out, you paid for my cake and now your hand’s down my pants.”

“You should be a philosopher.”

Izaya’s laughter rings out over the sleeping city.

 

* * *

 

It shouldn’t make him as happy as it does. It’s _Izaya_ , the whole thing could just be a mind game. And yet…

He doesn’t hear from the informant for a couple of weeks, confirming his suspicions that the whole thing was a wind-up. Just the thought of it makes his fists ball. He thinks of calling, but what's the point? No, he wants to break something, or hurt someone. 

It deflates, however, once he's sees Izaya, and sees at once that something is wrong. Izaya invites him in, but doesn’t even make tea. Once inside, Shizuo sees why. There are suitcases and piled up belongings everywhere. Izaya looks a little lost amongst it all.

“Going somewhere?” Shizuo says stupidly.

“Russia.”

“Oh. Were you planning on mentioning it?”

Izaya just looks at him.

“I guess not then. How long for?”

Izaya doesn’t answer him. He avoids Shizuo’s eyes and fidgets.

“All right,” Shizuo says, cursing himself for not seeing it coming. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“I was going to tell you,” he blurts.

“Yeah? When?”

“…from the airport,” he admits.

Shizuo snorts. “That’s good of you.”

Izaya fidgets some more. He holds his phone between both hands and rotates it over and over, his foot drumming up and down. Shizuo would have walked out if Izaya wasn’t so obviously worked up over something. It makes him want to be close to the informant despite everything, and he would, if Izaya didn’t look on edge enough to put a knife in his face.

“Has something happened?” Shizuo prompts eventually.

Izaya finally looks at him with an unreadable expression.

“I think I killed someone.”

Shizuo sits back as he feels all the air leave his chest.

“I know people think I do things like that all the time,” he says. “But I don’t. I didn’t mean to do it.”

“…What happened?”

He thinks for a minute.

“I was pushing someone off me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to. I was just pushing him away. But he fell over the edge of the building and landed on some railings.”

He starts playing with his phone again.

“I could hear him groaning. I called Shinra and an ambulance, but I think he was dead before they got there. There was so much blood. It was all the way up the side of the building. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Shizuo still can’t speak.

“I stayed with Shinra for a long time. He wanted me to come over, but I didn’t want to because Celty doesn’t like me, so I came home.”

His phone buzzes with a text, and he opens it to read it.

“It’s not your fault,” Shizuo hears himself saying. “If someone attacked you and you pushed them away – that could happen to anyone. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened to me.”

Izaya says nothing.

“Who was it? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No. No one knows.”

“Why was he attacking you?”

“He just wanted something,” Izaya says vaguely.

“Would he have pushed you if it had been the other way round?”

“Oh, yes,” Izaya says decisively. “Definitely.”

“Well, then.” Something occurs to him. “Does Shinra know you’re going to Russia?”

“No way,” Izaya says at once. “He’d kill me.”

“Well, what does that tell you? Why are you going?”

“I have a friend there I talk to a lot,” he answers. “I’ve told him what happened and the things I’m worried about – I don’t have a clear head at the moment, and I don’t really have anyone to talk to except Shinra, and he – he suggested I come for a bit.”

Shizuo struggles to process this.

“So…you’ve just got a one way ticket to Russia and you’re just going to go?”

“I have a business visa. It’ll let me stay for a good while. And once I’m there, it’s very easy to- “

“Izaya.” This is so stupid he doesn’t know where to start. He wonders if Shinra has given Izaya Valium or something, if this has disturbed his thought process. “You’ll be in a strange place. You’ve got all this anxiety and you won’t know anyone. And you love it here. Have a holiday if you need one. That could be a really nice idea. But don’t just exile yourself to Russia. That’s crazy.”

Izaya squirms a bit in his seat. He’s obviously given this some thought.

“I just feel like I have to…do something.”

“What you're doing isn’t fixing anything.”

Izaya doesn't say anything for a minute.

“He had a little girl."

“You think running off to Russia changes that?”

Izaya says nothing.

“There’s no point punishing yourself.”

“Hm. It just seemed like a chance to…”

“To what?”

Izaya looks at him without answering.

“Why are you doing this?”

Shizuo is caught out. Why _is_ he doing this? This is his chance to get rid of Izaya for good.

“Because I like you.”

“After what I just told you?”

“Especially after what you just told me.”

Izaya frowns.

“It’s not your fault.”

Izaya just looks at him.

“I didn’t even feel sorry,” Izaya says. “I was relieved. I was so relieved, you can’t imagine. If I could go back, I’d probably do it again.”

His phone pings.

“My cab’s here.”

“Let it go.”

“I can’t really.”

Something occurs to Shizuo then.

“What about your sisters?”

“My parents have moved back here permanently now,” he says. “They’ll be all right.”

“What about me?”

Izaya stares at him.

“What about what I just told you?”

“You can’t go to Russia,” Shizuo says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His phone starts ringing.

“Hello. Yes, I’m coming now. No, I haven’t left yet. I – I just had to do something. The cab’s here now. пока. Bye.” He gets up and starts getting his things together.

“Do you have your ticket already?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Yes,” he says with a hint of impatience. “I can show you my ticket, Shizu-chan.”

“OK, show me.”

Shizuo surprised when he actually hands it over, surprised he doesn’t click on. Shizuo shreds it into pieces.

Izaya stares for a moment like he can’t believe it. Then he bursts out laughing.

“What next, are you going to destroy my passport too?”

“If I have to.”

“You idiot,” he says. “You know I can just get them to reprint my ticket.”

“You won’t,” he says.

“You can’t stop me.”

“You don’t even want to go.” Shizuo shakes his head. “I thought you were really smart, but you’re actually an idiot.”

Izaya’s phone pings again before he can answer.

“My cab left.” He doesn't sound too devastated by this. He looks at Shizuo helplessly. “What should I do then?”

“Sleep?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ve had a ton of coffee. I’m fucking wired.”

“Unpack, then. I can help you.”

Izaya smiles for the first time.

“You’re not giving up, are you?”

“Would you if it were me?”

Izaya's still smiling, but he looks puzzled.

"Don't you get it though? I _killed_ someone."

"I heard you."

He knows he still needs time to absorb it, but he doesn't feel any revulsion towards the informant. Just the protectiveness he'd felt when he first opened the door.

Izaya shakes his head.

“I’m going to call my friend and tell him I’m not coming.”

“Don’t let him talk you out of it.”

“I don’t let people talk me out of things.”

“Well, you let him talk you _into_ it.”

Izaya makes a face at him in retaliation, but his eyes are vague, unfocussed, concentrating on the conversation he's about to have. It is in Russian and it takes him some time. Shizuo swallows, suddenly dry-mouthed. He feels as drained as if it were three in the morning, when it's only sometime after nine. He takes out his own phone to quell his nerves.

“Done,” Izaya sighs, hanging up. “Oh, someone called me when I was on the line, I’ve got a voicemail…hang on.” He starts laughing after a minute. “You told on me? Shinra’s so angry. I can’t believe you told on me.”

“Well, I figured I should have some help in case you change your mind.”

Izaya stops laughing and looks at him oddly again. 

“I don’t get it. We’ve only fooled around a few times. You don’t even like me.”

“You’re right,” he says, and Izaya blinks at him a bit. “You better make it up to me.”

He laughs again, and it is jagged and too loud, more of relief than amuesement.

 “It would have been nice if we – you know, if we got close sooner.”

“I thought it was a good thing we hadn’t,” Izaya says. “I mean, you might have been a bit hurt at first, but you would have been all right.”

Shizuo shakes his head.

“Start unpacking. I’ll help you.”

“I’ve changed my mind. No, not about that,” he says, seeing Shizuo's face. “About unpacking. I’m suddenly not wired anymore. I want to go to bed.”

He gets up and finally comes to Shizuo, hugging him unecessarily hard.

“Let me hide your passport.” Shizuo is a heavy sleeper.

“I’m not going anywhere, Shizuo.”

He gives him his passport anyway.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                `              


End file.
